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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711152">Can You Believe This?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GWhite/pseuds/GWhite'>GWhite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate SG1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Almost Dirty, F/M, I Tried, Quarantine Fluffy Stuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:55:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>906</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GWhite/pseuds/GWhite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Sam have been quarantined for several weeks, no touching allowed. “Really, Carter. Don”t you think this sucks?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Can You Believe This?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Keeleigh, who asked for Dirty Quarantine fics. This may not be exactly what she asked for, but I tried.</p>
<p>I don’t own them, but they’re fun to play with, and I always put them back  I don’t have a beta, so all errors are my own</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Can You Believe This?</p>
<p>“Can you believe this?” Jack asked, dropping his spoon into his half-eaten bowl of Froot Loops, causing milk to splatter on the table.  He ran his hands through his silver hair and then rubbed his face.  He plopped his elbows on the table and leaned forward.  “Really, Carter.  Don’t you think this sucks?”</p>
<p>Sam Carter rolled her eyes and took a bite out of her apple, then shrugged. “It could be worse, you know, sir.” She took her time chewing the sweet fruit. </p>
<p>Jack raised a scarred brow. “How?  It’s been four weeks.  F-o-u-r weeks,” he spelled out, holding up four fingers. “Isn’t that long enough?”<br/> <br/>“I’m a theoretical astrophysicist, not an epidemiologist.” She tacked the “sir” onto the end just in time. She swallowed and took another bite.</p>
<p>“Come on, Carter, four weeks.” he whined, leaning  forward and looking at her with his best best innocent, wide-eyed, luuuuv me, I’m cute look. “Four weeks. Just you, me, in this room, with two beds,” he waggled his eyebrows. “And people in hazmat suits coming and going, and three security cameras.” </p>
<p>Sam finished chewing, then swallowed, keenly aware Jack watched every movement.  She relaxed her elbows on the table. </p>
<p>“Sir,” she purred, “are you saying you’re tired of my company?” She lifted one hand to twirl a curl by her ear. She leaned closer. “Or, perhaps you think I’m boring?” she bit her lower lip, then ran her tongue over it, “sir.”</p>
<p>Jack watched her tongue slowly lick a non-existent drop of juicy apple from one corner of her mouth, then circle her lips.  </p>
<p>“Perhaps, sir,” she said, slowly fiddling with the top button of her BDU shirt, “you think there’s nothing entertaining we can do here.”</p>
<p>He watched her long, capable, strong, beautiful fingers slowly slipping the button in and out of the button hole, pausing to caress the top with her thumb. His elbow slipped and he nearly chinned himself on the table before he jerked upright.</p>
<p>“Uh, Carter.. “ he gulped and swallowed.</p>
<p>“Sir?” she picked up the apple, slowly biting into its flesh.</p>
<p>“Neither one of us has shown any signs of the virus, right?”</p>
<p>She nodded, then slowly licked her finger from tip to base where the juice had run, sucking the tip her finger into her mouth, slowly pulling it out, turning it slightly and slipping it between her lips again. She slid it out with a sigh that bordered on a moan. He jumped when he felt her foot <em>how did she get her boot off? </em>slide up his shin to his knees and caress the inside of his thigh with her toes.</p>
<p>“You know the security camera is on,  Colonel?”  Jack whispered across the table, trying to hide the hand he’d slipped into his pocket to try to relieve the increasing pressure in his pants.</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” she whispered back, watching his hand reappear from his pocket. “Does it bother you?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m bothered alright, Carter.”  He pointed a finger at her.</p>
<p>“You know, sir, you could tell them to turn the cameras off. You’re the … man.” She  breathed, then stood and walked to one of the screened off portions of the room, swaying her hips. She stopped by the opening and looked over her shoulder before disappearing. </p>
<p>“You know I can’t do that,” he grumped.  </p>
<p>“Yes, you can, Jack,” her voice floated across the room.  “Just tell Lam we’re married.”</p>
<p>Her shirt slithered across the floor and he heard the rasp of her zipper.</p>
<p>He was across the room two strides. He picked up the wall phone and growled “Call Doctor Lam to the VIP suite.”</p>
<p>Four weeks in quarantine with Carter, with only Landry knowing they were married, and knowing the SFs were watching their every move in security, was enough. He was done with watching and not touching. He sat at the table trying not to think about his half naked wife on the other side of the partition and thought about that slimey bastard Maybourne in a pink tutu while he waited for the CMO.</p>
<p>“Carter, you are so in trouble!” he threatened. Her answering giggle, followed by the lacey black bra sliding across the floor to join her shirt, made him grin. “No giggling!”</p>
<p>The CMO tried to keep a straight face as she took in the frustrated, fidgety two star standing by the table, fists balled in his pockets. “General O’Neill, the security cameras aren’t on. General Landry ordered them turned off when you and Colonel Carter were quarantined. He thought you might want a little privacy and since neither of you were showing symptoms, I agreed.”</p>
<p>Jack gawped. “They can’t be OFF.  The red light is ON!”</p>
<p>Carolyn bit her tongue to keep from laughing. “Well, sir, Siler may have been working on the wiring.”</p>
<p>“That rat,” Jack huffed and stabbed a finger at her. “And I was going to leave him my Simpsons tapes.” </p>
<p>When she’d left the room, Jack strode to where Sam lay stretched out on the bed, wearing only black, lacey, bikini panties. “The damn cameras are off, Sam,” he said. </p>
<p>“Wonder who won the pool on this one?”  she giggled. </p>
<p>He plopped next to her in the narrow bed and wrapped her in his arms. He bent his head to her lips for a deep kiss, his hands starting to roam her naked torso. “Four weeks, for cryin’ out loud!  Can you believe that?”</p>
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